The morning after the awakening was strangely quiet in Ashmoor Village.
Kael stood alone at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the Ebonflame Wastes, the same scorched plain that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon, blackened by centuries of spiritual warfare. Down below, the veins of dormant lava glowed faintly beneath cracked obsidian rocks, a reminder that the land itself still remembered fire and fury.
But Kael didn't see the landscape today. His gaze was inward into the strange, impossible flame now resting inside him.
He pressed a hand to his chest.
It was still there. A subtle warmth nestled in his dantian, pulsing slowly like a second heartbeat. He could feel it moving through his meridians, not like a traditional spirit root would but wild, chaotic, alive.
The First Flame.
The words whispered to him even now, though he wasn't sure if they were a memory or a prophecy. Whatever this ember was, it had awakened something inside him something ancient and dangerous.
And it wasn't just power. It was hunger.
That afternoon, Kael returned to the ruins beneath the charcoal cliffs the place where it all began. He needed answers.
The shattered statue stood silent, but as Kael knelt, the ancient runes shimmered faintly beneath the dust, responding to his presence.
"Why me?" he whispered, fingers brushing across the old stone. "Why choose someone like me?"
A gust of wind stirred the ash.
Then, without warning, flame erupted along the ruined floor not wild or scorching, but patterned. It formed a circle of sigils, burning crimson and gold. Within the center, an image shimmered to life.
A being cloaked in fire. A Flame Sovereign not flesh and bone, but spirit and will.
Its voice thundered inside Kael's mind.
"You are not chosen. You are the consequence."
Kael's breath caught. "Consequence?"
"This world was built on stolen power. The sky itself was sealed with lies. I am the last echo of what was taken. And now... the sky cracks."
Kael tried to speak, but the image flickered violently. Flames collapsed inward, and the sigils dimmed into ash once more. Whatever spirit had answered him was now gone or hiding.
But the message had carved itself into his bones.
> This world was built on stolen power.
That night, Kael trained. There were no scrolls or masters to guide him. Only instinct. And pain.
The cultivation path of the First Flame was unlike anything he had seen. It didn't draw from the world's spiritual essence it consumed it. Trees withered nearby when he practiced. Stones cracked beneath his steps.
But he grew stronger. Every motion felt cleaner, sharper. He was faster, more focused. And the more he cultivated, the more the flame inside him roared.
Yet something was missing.
The Breakthrough.
He had heard the stories: after sufficient cultivation, the body reached a threshold the first major wall in a cultivator's journey. Breaking through required focus, balance, and a stable spiritual core.
Kael had none of those.
The CursedCore burned too wildly. It refused to be tamed.
By the fifth day of solitary training, Kael collapsed mid-movement, choking on smoke that came not from the air but from his own breath. He vomited black soot, gasping.
It was killing him.
Or… it was testing him.
The next morning, he returned to the village, weary and pale. The moment he stepped past the main gate, whispers followed him like shadows.
"That's him. The rootless boy."
"He should have left by now."
"Didn't he burn down his own house once? Maybe he'll do it again."
Kael said nothing. He passed by the herbalist's stall, where Sera, the daughter of a local apothecary, caught his gaze and smiled awkwardly. She had been kind to him once shared food when he had none.
Now, even she turned away.
But someone didn't.
"Kael!" a boy's voice called.
Tovin, a short, round-faced kid with fiery hair and fists too big for his body, sprinted up to him.
"I saw you near the cliffs last night. What are you doing out there? You looked like you were glowing. Was it fire qi?"
Kael froze. "You… saw me?"
Tovin grinned and leaned in. "You did awaken, didn't you? I knew that Spiritstone was broken! You're just hiding it so the sects don't scoop you up."
Kael tensed. He liked Tovin his only real friend in Ashmoor but if anyone found out about the CursedCore, things wouldn't just get difficult they'd get deadly.
"I didn't awaken," Kael lied. "It's just burns. I… fell into a fire pit."
Tovin frowned. "That's a terrible excuse, you know."
Kael offered a weak smile. "Yeah."
Tovin nudged him in the ribs. "Well, if you ever do awaken, take me with you when you leave. I'd rather die in a spirit arena than grow old selling ratweed."
Kael looked up at the sky, where clouds gathered like silent judges.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Maybe we both will."
That night, fate intervened.
The Emberwood Sect arrived.
Five riders descended from flame-furred spirit beasts, clad in crimson robes edged with silver fire runes. Their presence stirred panic and awe. Villagers knelt as the sect members dismounted near the central square.
At their head stood SisterVael, a flame cultivator of the Third Flame Tier, her long hair blazing like a torch.
"We are here," she announced, "in response to an anomaly. A forbidden flame has been sensed near Ashmoor."
Kael's heart stopped.
Vael raised a small obsidian shard that pulsed faintly in her palm. "This artifact reacts to remnant flame qi. One of your villagers has been marked by it."
Kael backed into an alley.
"She's tracking me," he whispered.
The cursed flame stirred within him again not with fear, but with instinct. Fight. Flee. Burn. Survive. The core was reacting to danger.
That's when he saw MasterDren, the village elder, pointing in his direction.
"He's the only one who came back from the ruins alive," Dren said grimly. "The orphan boy. Kael Ardent."
To be continued in Chapter 3 – "Marked by Fire"